We all need a little Ben and Jerry's sometime
by singingstarryknights
Summary: Greg is thrown for a loop after a difficult case, Sara shares her sanity secret.Falls three weeks before 'Black Ties.' Number 6 in the Ducks in a Row Series.


We all need a little Ben and Jerry's sometime.

Greg is thrown for a loop after a difficult case, and Sara shares her sanity secret.

Three weeks before 'Black Ties.'

No matter how hard Greg Sanders worked at his professional poker face, Sara knew that he was barely hanging on, barely making it through the fire case they had just wrapped. He had been ok when they thought it was arson, but when she left him in the kitchen to process the stove, he found trace remnants of an exploded kettle… kettle exploded, boiling water burned their victim, she ran screaming into the living room, where she passed out, and was engulfed in flames as the oven mitt caught fire, and the house burned to the ground.

She followed him into the locker room, carefully observing his silence and his shaking hands as he opened his locker to toss in his vest. He ran his fingers through his hair, disheveling it slightly. She reached out to him, from the other side of the bench, and her fingers brushed the back of his black field vest lightly. He took a deep breath, but made no motion to face her.

"Greg." She was startled when he quickly shrugged off her touch.

"I'm fine."

"You're not. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you process the stove."

"Really, Sara, I'm ok." He unzipped his vest, and sat on the edge of the bench to change his sneakers, but rested his head in his hands instead. She squinted at him in concern, and hesitantly reached out to him again. She breathed out relief as he made no motion to rid himself of her touch. Greg didn't, however relax under her touch like he usually did when her fingers found his shoulders. With no response, she stepped around to his side, placing a hand on her hip, and leaving one at the base of his neck.

"I'm sorry, Greg." Her voice was barely a whisper. She ran her hand from his neck down his back a ways, in an attempt to soothe pain she could only imagine was radiating from the pinkish streak that spread along the length of his back, from the lab explosion. It was barely visible now, the only one still there years later. Greg inhaled deeply, and wrapped an arm around her waist affectionately. He pulled her toward him even more, and she stepped around to the other side of the bench, letting him rest his head against her stomach.

"I just need a minute." After several breaths, Greg lifted his head from her abdomen, and made an attempt at a weary half smile. The early morning sunshine had filtered in through the window clad in blinds at the end of the row of lockers, falling onto the two of them gently. Greg pulled at her waist again, and Sara stepped over the bench, coming to sit in his lap, facing him, feet dangling on the other side. She quickly recognized his need for contact, and pressed a kiss to his hair as he buried his features in the crook of her neck, arms tightly woven around her waist, under her field vest that she hadn't removed yet. The intimacy of their embrace moved her, and she brushed away a tear quickly.

"Ice cream always makes me feel better after a tough case." She whispered, smiling when she felt his chuckle ring through her body softly. He lifted his head to face her, and she was pleased to see a trace of the lopsided grin she loved. His gaze wandered from her eyes to her lips, and he pressed a gentle, loving kiss to them before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. She grinned at him, encouragingly lifting his spirits a bit.

"I have a pint of Ben and Jerry's in my freezer."

"Your place it is." Sara held a hand on one side of his face, and placed a kiss to his cheek, making his smile. "Let's go."

An hour and a half later, ice cream forgotten, Greg lay on his back, fingers playing gently with Sara's soft curls. She had fallen asleep after the double they had pulled, hugging him tightly to her body, one knee wedged lazily between his thighs. Her head rested on his chest, one arm flung across his stomach, lettering on his old sweatshirt visible on the sleeve; "Capt. Sanders" in dark yellow embroidered print. His eyes followed her arm, the faded navy of the sweatshirt contrasting the white of his tee shirt. He tilted his head, bringing the back decal into view. "Cal Chess" in UC Berkeley script, half hidden by the blanket wrapped about Sara's waist. He slipped his fingers under the hood, running his hand along her shoulder blades gently. She stirred in her sleep, pulling him tighter, and reached out for his other hand, tangling her fingers in his over his stomach. She snuggled into him further, still laying half on top of him.

Greg had chased the thoughts and images of the fire and the burn victim from his mind with difficulty over an hour ago. Sara had climbed into bed with him, pulled the covers over their bodies, holding him like a girlfriend, speaking to him like a mentor. She had eased his anxiety over the case, and reassuring him that everyone has genres of cases that get to them. She hated domestic abuse. Nick couldn't handle child molestation. Catherine was queasy when it came to child abductions, Warrick got anxious over scenes in his old neighborhood. His weakness was burn cases, but in time he would learn to focus the apprehension he felt into motivation, and he would find himself an expert in fire and arson in no time, turning his weakness into strength.

Greg-the-student let out a sigh, wanting to believe Sara-the-mentor. He had become a CSI for many reasons, but the lingering subconscious one was that it was simply a route to escape the lab without leaving the city. His thoughts were broken by a whisper.

"Worrying and obsessing and losing sleep over a case is _my_ forte, Gregory." She hadn't moved, but her fingers tightened their grip on his own.

"Am not." He smiled to himself as he felt her laugh on his abdomen.

"I can be a better distraction."

"You distract me just fine." His smile broadened a fraction as she rolled on top of him, meeting his gaze.

"I can do better." She arched an eyebrow at him, as if asking him if he was up to the challenge.

"Really." He cracked a grin as she nodded, wavy curls cascading around her face. She leaned over him and kissed him chastely, before pulling away. He squinted at her, considering her kiss before speaking. "Hrmm. Yes, now I'm cured." His sarcastic tone was in jest, but she held his gaze, a sly smile on her lips. She slid partway off him, dragging her fingers along the length of his stomach, pushing his boxers dangerously low on his hips. His hand slipped under the sweatshirt, feeling her skin beneath his fingers.

"Oh, I wasn't finished." Her eyes sparkled, darkening a few shades, her tone innocent and unassuming.

"Ah ha. I get it." Greg pushed her the rest of the way off him before her fingers ventured any lower. He leaned over her, catching her light, gentle kisses that left her out of breath.

"Greg!" She half whined, half laughed, in protest of his attentive kisses, and wandering hands.

"You are better than a distraction, Sara. You're the love of my life." He pressed a slow kiss to her neck. "Everyday I wake up, and I can't tell if it's real or if I'm still dreaming." She grinned, and roughly pushed him off her, tumbling him onto his back, landing on top of him.

"I can pinch you if you want, but this is real."


End file.
